Paper faces on parade, and all we are is phantoms in the dark.
We burn with tightly-controlled magnificence and sought-for food for pride.
Welcome to the masquerade—do you make my day or shall I make yours a misery?
The fountain of looks and laughs like a rain of fiber-optic falsity.
Throw a gaze over your shoulder; keep that eye out or someone may take it out for you.
We say nothing in forward motion; we dance in code.
Dare to breathe and only my sickly sallow jester’s face stares back.
The feathers on this mask make hidden knives: of steel or words.
Invent my exit for you: “Bravo, bravo!” they cry, knowing not a single name.
Feet never stumbling, maverick like a thousand mavericks before us.
A highwire burdened under the weight of seven billion souls: it now sags to mere inches.
Bright gowns that cover all skin, lest my rabid acne shed the illusion.
Even the eyes that show—that summon silence—speak no words true,
Immortality gleaned from the labyrinths of a thousand star-stuffed nights.
Words fall to the floor like glass, but no slippers for Cinderella are left in their wake.
What prince, if he should exist, would seek queens as dazzling as these?
A masquerade is no pride of a fairy tale.
Paper faces, paper faces...a masquerade is no more than a parade.
I like this so much. It's amazing.
ReplyDeleteI also like this in specific:
Throw a gaze over your shoulder; keep that eye out or someone may take it out for you.
cleverclever